High o’er the hills the mountains rise,
Their summits tower t’ward the skies;
But far above them I must dwell,
Or sink beneath the flames of hell.
Oh, God! forbid that I should fall
And lose my everlasting all;
But may I rise on wings of love,
And soar to the blest world above.
Altho I walk the mountains high,
Ere long my body low must lie,
And in some lonesome place must rot,
And by the living be forgot.
There I must lie till that great day,
When Gabriel’s awful trump shall say,
Arise, the judjement day is come,
When all must hear their final doom.
Then will I sing God’s praises there,
Who brought me through my troubles here
I’ll sing, and be forever blest,
Find sweet and everlasting rest.